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I leave her room thinking of how much I wanted to please Nana but Syd’s heart is at stake here too. Hell, my own heart is at stake. I love Syd and I care so much for Connor. I wouldn’t be able to just walk away from either of them at this point in my life.
I head down to the kitchen. The main floor is open concept with a high vaulted ceiling. The kitchen runs along the outer wall of the cabin. The fridge is stocked with some basics, but I see a package of Ghirardelli hot chocolate and know Connor must have placed it there since we have a similar package back home in the city.
I take a pot and heat up milk. Then I place three mugs on the counter to pour the contents into each mug. I notice once again I think of the apartment in the city as home, but really it isn’t the apartment that gives me the warm fuzzy feeling. It’s Connor and Syd. Syd has allowed me into her life with open arms. Connor’s arms haven’t been wide open and welcoming, but I have somehow found a way to slither under his defenses. Yet, there are still times when the walls he builds are so high they almost seem impenetrable. It’s then I realize I want to penetrate his barriers. I don’t want little tidbits of his kindness, of his affection. I want the whole thing. The real deal.
“Hi.” His soft voice carries through the dark kitchen. I didn’t have it in me to turn on the lights because the view of the lake with lights in the distance was too beautiful, and I thought the artificial light would drown it out.
“Hi,” I reply. “I’m making you cocoa. I told Syd I’d bring hers up to the room. She was tired.”
“I just went in to check on her. She’s out like a light. Found the iPad playing beside her.” He grins.
“It’s a long day for her,” I say.
“Yeah,” he sighs.
I take the pot with the boiling milk and only fill two mugs. I mix it well then pass Connor the cocoa.
“Thanks.” He smiles. He’s been doing that more and more lately.
“This place is really beautiful. Thanks for bringing me here,” I say to him.
“Wait until you see it in the daylight tomorrow. The pictures were insanely beautiful. I can only imagine the real deal is so much better.”
“I bet it is.”
His eyes drop to my lips then back up to eye level.
“When we were living back in Canada, I used to take Syd on all kinds of outdoor adventures. I felt like I was missing the outdoors,” he shares.
“I’ve always been a city girl. Not by choice, mind you. My family lived in the city. I went to NYU. Then I stayed in the city, but I always loved places that were outside the city that were less populated. My family has a place in Montauk, but it just feels like you haven’t left the city, even though there’s a beach,” I explain.
“I know what you mean,” Connor says, and he sips his cocoa. “Mmm, this is good.”
I take a sip too.
“What kind of places gave you inspiration for your art?” he asks.
“My parents loved to travel. There aren’t many places I haven’t been. But my parents’ definition of a vacation was to bring my brothers and I along and they would do their own thing and leave us with nannies. My brothers were always into hiking and being active, and I just wanted to draw pretty things.”
“Wow,” Connor says.
“It drove my parents batshit that I wanted to sit and paint. The paint would get in my nails. Sometimes I would forget and touch my hair and they would lose their mind about how they couldn’t take me in public looking like a painter. The more they hated it the more I loved it.”
I take a sip of my cocoa and watch Connor. He’s a good listener.
“It must have been lonely,” he replies. His full lips form a thin line.
“It was. I had my dog. On occasion I had Nana. I was thirteen when Nana took a step down from running the family business. She invited me over to her house for lunch and said she wanted to see me a minimum of once a week. It was then she realized how far she and Nonno strode from their initial dreams of what coming to America would look like. She was filled with regret and told me as much. Nonno retired too and he spent a lot of time with his hockey team. I remember him taking me to a game, but I was bored and didn’t want to go back.”
“I’m offended,” Connor jokes, placing a palm over his heart.
I laugh. “I had fun at the game you took me to,” I say, and I feel my eyes dancing mischievously, remembering our little interlude in the locker room.
His jaw pulses. I can see it flicker with the little light flowing into the kitchen from the moon. “It was a good game.” His eyes drop to my chest. I remember I am not wearing a bra. He swallows and then his eyes meet mine. “You’re very difficult to resist.”
“I’m starting to understand why we could complicate our situation,” I reply.
“It’s good to see you’re thinking clearly because when you’re this close and your nipples look razor-sharp, I’m not thinking at all,” he says gruffly. His words cause a gush of heat between my thighs.
